Trust Me
by Teenage Mouse
Summary: The King of Spades has been kidnapped, and all signs are pointing towards the Queen as the culprit.


~ Trust Me ~

Alfred awoke slowly to find himself lying on a cold, hard surface. And not just hard, but…rough and prickly; it scratched at his cheek as he shifted, sluggishly, on the ground. After a while, he realised that it wasn't his brain that was rattling around in his head: the floor itself was rocking, swaying this way and that, jolting every now and then with a loud creak, and slamming up to meet his cheek with a painful whack.

He _should_ be able to guess where he was, to make some sense of why he was lying on the ground, but it was too hard. His brain felt heavy – so sluggish and slow that it took him several minutes before he understood that this was not the bed he was supposed to wake up in.

That was how he realised that he must have been drugged.

And once he started trying to move, he was sure of it.

Everything was a struggle: his eyelids were glued shut and unwilling to open, his head felt like a boulder and seemed bolted to the floor. Every action became a feat of determination because his limbs felt as if they were somewhere far away, no longer moving at Alfred's unconscious command. It must have taken a good twenty minutes before Alfred was sitting up and looking around properly, though his mind was still buzzing dully.

At last he realised that he was locked up in a carriage at the back of some kind of horse-drawn cart. That was why the dark, windowless carriage he was in was swaying and rocking: the old cart was rattling along a road somewhere – probably an old, unused forest path judging by all the bumps and lurches in the road.

These people had just drugged and kidnapped the new King of Spades, after all. They'd have to be riding somewhere out of sight to get Alfred wherever they intended to take him.

But Alfred didn't have time to worry about where that might be right now. He'd love to know who these people were and what their plan was, so he could rain down some good old Spades justice upon them – but he had to focus on escaping for now. His drowsy, drug-addled brain was in no shape for anything more than that. Alone, and very much at the enemy's mercy, Alfred – brave and daring as usually was – knew it would be foolish to attempt anything clever.

"Oi, Bert! How much longer?"

"Lord 'a' mercy! Just give it a rest, will ya, Pete!"

"But them drugs'll be wearin' off any time now. We has to get there soon or he'll be able to escape!"

"Lord Dashington said his Majesty had enough to knock out a soddin' legion. Even if he manages to wake up, he won't be goin' nowhere. I've done this before, just trust me, alright?"

It took Alfred a few dazed moments before his brain could take in the conversation and make any sense of it. As soon as it began to register, though, he froze as he listened to the bickering outside, hoping to glean any information he could.

It was two men whose voices he didn't know, but with strong accents Alfred was sure he recognised from somewhere. He couldn't see them from inside the wooden carriage, so there could very well be more enemies out there. But the one called Bert was right: even if it _was_ just the two of them guarding him, they could easily handle Alfred by themselves, what with how drowsy and useless he felt with the lingering effects of the drugs.

But something was nagging at the back of Alfred's mind, an important buzz that he couldn't quite understand. He leant back against the rocking carriage wall and waited for his mind to clear so that he could remember.

And then it hit him: his strength! The superhuman strength he had inherited with the crown! No drug should be able to overcome the King of Spades, and the fact that Alfred was affected meant that something was very wrong. And it could only be one thing: his golden Spade-shaped pocket watch.

It was as much a symbol of the King of Spades as his ceremonial crown, only this one he could carry with him. It was the source of his stupendous strength, so long as it was kept upon his person, and if Alfred was able to be drugged and overcome it meant that…

He didn't even have to check the pockets of his pyjamas to know that it was gone.

Was this why he had been kidnapped, then? They had wanted his pocket watch and its magical properties? But they must have known it only works for the King of Spades, so they had dragged him along, too, to force him to do their evil bidding! But how did they intend to make Alfred use his strength on their orders? Surely they didn't expect him to bow down to some kidnappers just because they managed to steal his pocket watch!

As the carriage swayed along its journey, Alfred's panic died down and he realised he probably hadn't been kidnapped to be forced into being a superhuman weapon. It was far more likely that the kidnappers had simply taken the pocket watch away from him to make sure he couldn't escape. So, should he try to get it back, or just escape and worry about the pocket watch later?...

The cart jolted violently as it hit a rock in the road, sending Alfred careening up into the air. As he crashed back down, his head smashed against the wooden wall of the carriage with a resounding crack, jarring his body and making his brain rattle. The pain banished everything from Alfred's mind for several moments, and when it cleared, it left a single thought ringing urgently in his mind.

The name his captors' had mentioned: Lord Dashington. Alfred recognised that for sure. The man in question had been dining with Alfred just last night. He was a member of the House of Kirkland…

…A cousin of the Queen of Spades.

Alfred shook the thought from his head before it had time to form. If Arthur's family were behind the kidnapping, Queen Arthur wouldn't be a part of it. Sure, they weren't really on friendly terms, and becoming queen had sort of ruined Arthur's life…and, really, Alfred wouldn't be surprised if Arthur secretly hated him…

_No!_ Alfred scolded himself. He would not suspect Arthur unless he was given proof, and even then, he would try to give his queen the benefit of the doubt. They were a team after all.

…Even though Arthur didn't like to spend much time with him. And they were very, _very_ different people who never seemed to agree on anything…

_**No!**_

Alfred tugged at his own hair to stop these stupid thoughts before they ran away with his reason. He would _not_ let some stupid kidnappers make him start doubting his queen. If Arthur or Lord Dashington really were behind this, then Alfred would deal with it, but that didn't matter right now.

All that mattered was escaping.

The cart juddered to a stop, a gentle "Woah, girl!" coming from one of the men outside as he reined in the horse.

"Go on, then, Pete" said one of the kidnappers.

Alfred stayed still and listened closely. If they had reached their destination and were about to open the carriage, maybe he could take them by surprise and barrel out and run away. They hadn't bothered to tie up his hands or feet, after all.

"_Me_?!" snorted the other man. "Not bloody likely!"

"We've got his magic watch, ya berk," Bert retorted. "He can't use his super strength to hurt you. He's either asleep or all drugged up, you won't have no problems, Pete."

Pete groaned childishly, and his voice wavered as he pleaded with Bert. "You _know_ that's not what I – "

"Come on! Hop to it or I'm tellin' Lord Dashington you're a useless cow pat and he'd be better off cutting ya loose."

There was some indignant huffing, followed by a loud thud as Pete obviously jumped down off the seat at the front of the cart. Alfred tried to crawl over to the back doors of the carriage so that he could burst out and take the man by surprise. But his hopes of escape were cut pathetically short. He could barely crawl forward an inch without stopping to clutch his head or put a hand to his churning stomach. What with the powerful drugs clogging his system, and his dizzying motion sickness from the rough ride, he realised there was no escape for him right now.

Sure enough, the doors of the carriage swung open, blinding Alfred in the light of a bright summer afternoon. And all the king could do was wince and clamp his eyes shut, shrinking back into the cool dark of the carriage.

The kidnapper, Pete, grabbed one of his legs and hauled him closer until he was within easy reach. He wasn't particularly gentle, but Alfred couldn't sense much malice behind his rough actions. Perhaps these men weren't involved in the kidnapping for any personal reasons, they were just doing it for the money.

Pete dragged Alfred out of the carriage, but then his weight proved too much for the kidnapper and he let the king crash to the ground.

"Blimey, he's a heavy bugger!"

That was the last thing Alfred heard before his mind swam dangerously and was swallowed in black.

But just before he passed out, Alfred realised where he'd heard that strong accent before. "_Blimey_…" "_Bugger_…"

Arthur…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Alfred woke, he had the strange sensation that he was living the same scene all over again.

As he struggled to consciousness he realised that he was once again lying on a rough, hard floor, far away from his bedroom in the palace. Though this time he was cold, almost unbearably so. It was rather damp, too. And when he finally managed to force his heavy eyes open, it almost made no difference, for his surroundings were pitch black. He could just make out the paler blue of his pyjamas if he squinted down at himself, but apart from that there was nothing.

He certainly wasn't in the carriage anymore, so Alfred carefully ran his hands along the ground until he found a wall, trailing his fingertips along the uneven surface to make some sort of guess as to where he could be. The answer came instantly.

He was in a cave: some kind of underground antechamber perhaps, for he could feel a chill draught coming from a tunnel somewhere nearby. Alfred crawled around the confined space, running his hands along the four walls to locate the cave entrance, hoping he might be able to find a way out. Perhaps the kidnappers had rolled a boulder in front of the cell and he could try to push it away.

But when Alfred's hands finally found the opening he realised there was no hope, once again. The entrance of the cave was covered in bars, and he couldn't squeeze through.

To his shame, Alfred felt a surge of fear raced through his gut, and he shivered violently.

Everything was so strange and disorienting, and he didn't understand why these terrible things were happening to him. He'd probably only been gone a day – if that – but it was all such a shock that it felt like this had been his life for a long, long time. He felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

And yet, as soon as Alfred managed to sit up straight and gather control of himself, he scolded himself for being so dramatic.

_One_ day of suffering and he was already feeling sorry for himself? That was pathetic. _Shows just how pampered you've been until now_, Alfred scoffed at himself. Some people struggled through each and every day, and he couldn't even handle_ one_ day of hardship? What sort of king was he?!

Alfred sat there for some time in his prison cell, trying to will away the after effects of all the damage his body had suffered. After a while, he was able to stand up, and found that his head nearly brushed the ceiling of the small cave, and that he could touch both walls if he stretched out his arms. It was rather claustrophobic if Alfred let himself think about it (which he didn't).

As his eyes adjusted, Alfred realised that his cave cell must be an offshoot of some kind of underground tunnel system. Through the dark, he could just make out some even darker shadows on the other side of his prison bars, and realised that they must be entrances to tunnels. No doubt his kidnappers were hiding down another tunnel somewhere, or maybe letting him rot down here while they sat out in the sunshine.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he'd been snatched from his bedroom. It must have been at least twenty four hours, though, for his stomach gurgled ferociously as if he hadn't eaten in a long time. Not only that, but his limbs tingled when he moved, and he felt the grogginess of a long, tiring journey weighing him down. It was the same lethargic feeling he'd had after spending days in a carriage, on the trip he'd taken last year to visit all the different counties in the kingdom.

That was how he knew his kidnappers' accents, Alfred reminisced as he paced the small cave cell.

He and Arthur had taken a tour of the Spades after their coronation last year – starting from their palace in the north and sweeping round in a full circle across the whole kingdom. One of the last stops had been England County, where Arthur grew up. The new queen, himself, came from a posh part of the county, full to bursting with noble families – but much of England was farmland, and in the poorer areas, the people spoke in dialects like those of his kidnappers. It sounded very different to Arthur's posh, clipped accent, and yet Alfred was privy to the fact that when Arthur got angry he often slipped into the dialect of his country's farmers.

Alfred wiped away a fond smile that came unbidden at the memory of walking in on Arthur shouting at one of his brothers. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was no changing the fact that his kidnappers were from England County. Whether or not they had anything to do with Arthur's cousin, Lord Dashington, (or worse, with Arthur himself) Alfred still didn't care. The more pressing issue was the fact that he was in a cave, without his magical pocket watch and super strength, and with no obvious chance of escape.

So quiet was the cave that Alfred heard his kidnappers coming long before they arrived. It was too dark to see much, but the men must have been coming down one of the underground tunnels, for their voices echoed off the stone walls into the empty chamber where Alfred was being held. Making a snap decision, Alfred quickly lay on the floor and pretended to be sleeping. Maybe he could overhear something important again.

"No, you blitherin' idiot! If we sell the watch, someone'll figure out there was foul play. You don't think them Americans'll be too happy to find out their king didn't die in a horse riding accident, or whatever they plan to come up with. Nah, Kirkland must know what he wants to do with it, if he planned all this, so just let _him_ worry about the pocket watch."

Alfred almost gave himself away then, as horror flooded his body and he swallowed a gasp that tried to tear itself out of his throat.

Not Arthur. _Please_ don't let them be talking about Arthur. There were dozens of "Kirklands" in Spades, so it was _possible_ that they meant someone else. Alfred didn't care if it was Arthur's father or brothers, just so long as Arthur wasn't responsible for all this. Alfred didn't know how he could handle going back to the palace and having to announce that his queen was a traitor. He'd rather not escape at all…

But no, that was ridiculous! He couldn't stay here just to avoid confronting Arthur. That would mean leaving his enemies to run free, ruling his country with no one to know the truth. The last thing he wanted was to find out that Arthur had betrayed him, and yet Alfred _had_ to get out, no matter what terrible reality he had to go back to.

"Alright, yer majesty. Rise and shine!"

Alfred pretended to groan groggily as one of his kidnappers began banging against the bars of his cave cell. He sat up sluggishly and blinked at them through the flickering orange light of the torch they'd brought with them.

It was Alfred's first good look at his kidnappers and he didn't recognise them at all. Of course, he'd expected that – if the Kirklands were behind this, they would send lackeys rather than do the job themselves. Still, Alfred took in the men's faces so that he could describe them both later to the Royal Guard.

One was about his height, with a wiry looking body and wispy hair framing the chin on his wrinkled face. The other was short and stout, and looked sturdy as a boulder, with an unflattering bowl hair cut.

"And how are we this afternoon, yer majesty?" asked the tall, wrinkled one. Now that Alfred could put a face to the voice, he knew that this one was Bert. The shorter man, Pete, said nothing, but kept a glare trained on Alfred's face. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else right now, and Alfred could sympathise.

"Why am I here?" he demanded, deciding not to beat about the bush. It was a long shot, but his kidnappers didn't seem to have any qualms about discussing their plans while they thought he was asleep – so maybe, just maybe, they'd answer his questions. After all, if they planned to kill him, what did they have to lose?

"Well, basically, there's a lot of people who ain't too happy with you," Bert explained happily. His grin shone eerily in the red flame of the torch, and Alfred got the impression the man was actually proud to be part of this kidnapping. "We was asked _personally_ to escort you here and take care of ya."

"No!" Alfred gasped, feigning horror so that they wouldn't know he'd already been eavesdropping on them and knew all these details. "Everybody loves me! I'm a great king. Nobody would want me…out of the picture."

It was bait. If he pretended he didn't understand what was going on, perhaps one of them would divulge more information. Bert, certainly, appeared to be more than happy to reveal what he knew of the kidnapping plot, excited to show off how much he'd been trusted and how much he knew about such an important plan.

"You'd be surprised!" Bert laughed. "Our orders come from the Kirklands themselves."

Alfred's shock was real this time. His mouth fell open, and he could swear he physically felt his heart begin to crumble.

"But…not Arthur. It must be his family. He would never – "

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Bert laughed. "You really are a fool. No wonder the queen wants you 'out of the picture.'" He laughed menacingly, and Alfred didn't dare ask what they meant to do with him now that he was in their grasp.

"That's enough, Bert," snapped Pete, speaking up for the first time. "He don't need to know everythin.' And mind your manners, he's still the king."

"For _now_," Bert chuckled again, sending piercing shivers up Alfred's spine. Suddenly, he wished he weren't in his pyjamas. He felt weak and bare, and if he had to die he'd rather be wearing something a little less ridiculous.

Pete placed a metal cup through the bars of Alfred's cell, and then chucked something cold and hard at his chest, making Alfred flinch. "It's not much, but I'd feel guilty not givin' you a last meal. It's the least I can do for a king, ya know?" Alfred picked up the hard object Bert had thrown and realised it was a stale roll of bread. "We're waiting on someone right now, yer majesty, so you just sit tight for a bit. Won't be too long now."

Bert sniggered one final time, and the two of them set off back through the tunnel, taking the light with them.

Alfred felt like crying again. His throat burned with repressed sobs, and the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins was deafening in his ears.

But he refused to break down.

He leant back against the cave wall, letting the cold stone cool his skin and the jagged surface steady his quaking body. He took long, deep breaths and swallowed his fears, and then, for good measure, he ate the bread and drank the cup of water that Bert had brought him, just to give him something to do.

It brought the king some much needed normalcy, and he felt surprisingly refreshed afterwards. The black of the cave wasn't even as scary anymore, and he could even see a bit further now that his eyes were used to the dark.

He stood up and felt around every inch of the walls and floor, even pushed against the ceiling to test for holes. He ran his hands over the bars that enclosed the little ante-chamber prison to test their strength, hoping for something, anything, that might help him escape.

But there were no weak spots. The walls, floor, ceiling, bars…none of it would budge. He was deep underground, and the rock was impenetrable without his super strength.

Alfred sat down again and tried to think. But unfortunately, that just led to panic once more.

_He was trapped, there was no escape, he was going to be murdered, his kingdom would end up in the wrong hands, there was no hope, he was going to die, he'd never see Arthur again…_

_Arthur…_

Bert had said that Arthur was behind all this, and yet the thought of the queen still managed to calm Alfred down.

After all, the kidnappers had never actually said outright that Arthur was the one giving their orders. They only said it was 'the Kirklands.' Maybe Bert and Pete just _assumed_ the queen was behind all this? Of course, Alfred didn't like to think that _any_ of the Kirklands would turn on him, but it wasn't really impossible. Spades' history had more than its fair share of coups and rebellions where a noble family would seize power over the rightful heir to the throne, and the Kirklands were a recurring name in such stories. It was certainly possible that Arthur's family might want to get rid of Alfred so that Arthur was alone on the throne, and the Kirklands had sole influence over the ruling of Spades. Arthur might have no clue what was going on, it was just his family working in the shadows without his knowledge.

Alfred groaned and clutched his head, thumping his head into the cave wall in frustration. He hated thinking like this. He was a trusting person by nature and would always give people the benefit of the doubt.

But he had to admit it was _possible_ some of the Kirklands may be behind this evil plot.

When it came to Arthur, though, Alfred couldn't believe it. It wasn't that he refused to acknowledge the idea, he just honestly couldn't picture Arthur as a murderous traitor. There was nothing more impossible. Whatever Arthur's family was up to, there was no way the queen himself was involved.

And since dwelling on his current, hopeless predicament just caused Alfred to panic, he decided to close his eyes and think of Arthur – not as a potential threat, but the way Alfred would always remember him, no matter what happened.

Secretly, Alfred had always really liked Arthur. Really, _really_ liked him. But their relationship had been a mess from the start – such an unequivocal catastrophe that Alfred didn't see a way he could ever fix it.

Alfred had been first in line to the throne his whole life, so he'd met dozens of eligible queens before. Nobody knew who would be chosen by the magical Queen's clock, but there were certain families who were always in the running. The Kirklands were perhaps the most likely, producing more queens than any other family since the dawn of Spades, so Alfred had always been aware of Arthur and his three older brothers – any of whom could be his future queen.

He was also aware that the Kirkland didn't like him and his parents. Compared to the Kirklands, Alfred's family were like new money, for they'd only come into power through a controversial marriage a little over a century ago. Alfred knew that most of Arthur's family looked down on him, for the Joneses had only been famous and powerful for a few generations, whereas the Kirklands were an ancient noble family. They had produced more queens than any other family in Spades, and had even been kings for a few generations before they were ousted in a rebellion. They were practically treated as royalty even when one of them was not currently on the throne. Alfred had never been too fond of the Kirklands, to be honest.

But Arthur had always seemed different to the rest of his family.

Growing up, Alfred had met the English boy once or twice before at balls and such, but Arthur was a few years older than himself and usually hung around with nobles his own age. And by the time Arthur was sixteen, it was a well known fact that the youngest Kirkland didn't want to be queen, didn't want to be noble and powerful, and would rather run around with dubious friends in the common parts of England County. The men and women at court thought it was scandalous, but Alfred – still only a child at the time – had always thought Arthur's rebelliousness was really cool. He could understand how Arthur felt – not wanting the responsibilities that were being thrown at you just because of who your parents happened to be. And Arthur didn't seem to be causing trouble when he went off on his own, he just wanted his freedom. Alfred tried rebelling once or twice himself, when he reached adolescence, but never managed to escape more than the garden wall. Someone would always find him and lecture him about expectations and responsibilities until he felt guilty enough to return home. He respected Arthur for being able to get out there and live how he wanted, not bending to other people's orders.

The years passed and eventually Arthur came back to the Kirkland Manor and entered into the family business. Alfred respected him for that, just as he'd respected the man's rebellious teenage years. He'd grown up and decided to use his wealth and status for good, and he made a name for himself at court that distinguished him from his lazy, entitled relatives.

Last year, when Alfred heard that the magical spade mark had appeared on Arthur's shoulder, he had secretly been delighted. He wanted an opportunity to get to know Arthur, to become best friends and maybe even more. Alfred had always found his heart fluttering when he saw Arthur at court, and even dreamed about him at night sometimes when he saw the other at a ball or palace event. He couldn't believe his luck now that Arthur would be forced to spend time with him!

But no sooner had that burst of excitement lit up inside him than it fizzled out, and left Alfred with a hollow, sinking feeling.

Arthur didn't _want_ to be queen. He'd made that quite clear when he was a teenager. He was going to hate the new life being forced upon him, and he'd no doubt resent Alfred for being the core of it.

They met a week before the coronation and they barely spoke – Alfred because he was too shy and forlorn, and Arthur, no doubt, because he was secretly fuming and trying hard to be civil. There was a whirlwind of activity getting ready to inaugurate the new royal family, and Alfred and Arthur barely saw each other apart from a few formal dinners that rang with awkward silence.

After the coronation it was even worse. Alfred cursed whatever old law ordained that the king and queen must be married. Not only did he feel guilty for forcing Arthur into marriage (and even worse, for being secretly happy about it), but then there was the humiliation of the wedding night. Alfred couldn't even think about it without feeling sick from mortification. They'd only done it once, and Alfred had finished shamefully fast, leaving Arthur to tend to himself. It was all so horrifically embarrassing that Alfred couldn't even look Arthur in the eye afterwards. Arthur would surely hate him forever now…It couldn't be any better than rape, in Arthur's eyes.

They'd set out on their tour of the kingdom three days later, and they'd insisted on separate carriages because it was too awkward to be together.

Alfred had been so happy when Arthur was chosen as queen, but their new positions only made any relationship between them even more impossible. Arthur had been forced into a life he didn't want, and Alfred represented all of that – his stolen freedom, his loveless marriage, his ordered future. The palace must seem like a prison to Arthur, and Alfred was his jail keeper.

Alfred looked around at his own prison cell, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks were for Arthur rather than himself. The poor queen had it far worse than he did, and Alfred almost felt like he deserved to be here. Perhaps the queen really was behind Alfred's kidnapping, but even so, Alfred couldn't blame him.

Alfred had ruined Arthur's life, and done nothing to help him because he was too happy that Arthur was forced to be with him. He'd never tried to prove his good intentions, so maybe Arthur thought _he_ was the enemy – a cold, heartless tyrannical king who didn't care about stepping on other people.

No wonder Arthur had been desperate to get rid of him…

Of course, kidnapping and murder were inexcusable, Alfred reminded himself as he looked around the black cave and felt despair curl up in his stomach once more. He hated knowing that a queen who would do such horrible things would be left in charge of his kingdom. But maybe it was Arthur's _family_ behind the details of the plan. Perhaps Arthur had just consented to letting them get Alfred out of the way, and he didn't know they planned to murder him.

Somehow, Alfred was certain that Arthur was not acting on behalf of his family's hatred. Maybe the rest of the Kirklands were in on this plan because they didn't like the Joneses, but Arthur wasn't like that. He was only trying to protect himself, and Alfred couldn't really blame him for that, could he?

Perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly, Alfred realised. He must still be too smitten with his image of Arthur Kirkland as some cool, mature, rebellious older boy, and unable to link that ideal vision with the person behind the horrible situation he was in now.

Maybe he _should_ hate Arthur, and want to get out of here and have him executed. Maybe Arthur really was as greedy as the rest of the Kirklands and other noble families – willing to cut throats and manipulate people to snatch just a grain more power in the land of Spades. Alfred had never been too competent with the political relationships around the kingdom, because he knew that it was a bloodthirsty game and it frightened him. He'd never really taken it too seriously – it was his father, the king's, problem, so it never seemed real.

But now Alfred was king. Now it was _his_ problem. He'd been naïve, and now here he was in an underground dungeon because he'd never noticed his queen conspiring against him. He'd trusted Arthur just because he liked him, but that was not enough. From now on, he had to be suspicious of everyone if he wanted to survive.

Alfred was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice a light growing down one of the stone passageways until it was almost right upon him. The light was a pale blue, and looked beautiful against the damp stone walls as it danced closer to Alfred's cell.

Finally, the light exited the tunnel, and the bearer stepped out into view of Alfred's cell.

Alfred was so surprised that when he opened his mouth to shout, the words got lost on the way out, and his mouth hung open in silence.

"Alfred? Is that you?"

"_A-Arthur_?" Alfred gasped in amazement.

It was, indeed. The Queen of Spades stood before him, blonde hair and green eyes and dark travelling cloak all washed out in the glowing blue light, but beautiful as Alfred had ever seen him.

"_Thank God!_"

Arthur was smiling in the magical light that floated beside his head. He looked so relieved and happy, and Alfred's heart soared at the sight of him…

But he snapped back to reality, reminding himself of everything he had just promised himself. He was in danger right now, and if Arthur was here, he couldn't let his guard down. He had to be on his toes. That smile Arthur wore could all be an act. He might be pretending to save Alfred only to betray him again later. Alfred didn't have time to work out Arthur's plan – all he could do was remember to be wary and not to trust him too soon.

The old Alfred, who was smitten with Arthur, had let himself get kidnapped. If Alfred wanted to survive this, he had to be a different man, and that meant treat Arthur like the enemy. He couldn't make himself hate Arthur, even now, but he couldn't trust him either.

Arthur blinked in confusion when Alfred didn't jump for joy, or even smile at him. His brows furrowed in what looked like hurt (_probably an act_, Alfred reminded himself) but he shook it off and took a step back.

"Alfred, get away from the bars. Look away from the light."

Alfred did as he was told, pressing himself against the back of his cave and clenching his eyes shut. There was the soft sound of wind, followed by a gentle brush of air that lifted his hair and set his silk pyjama top fluttering around his waist. Before he knew it, Arthur was talking again.

"Okay, that should do it. You can open your eyes, Alfred."

Alfred did as he was told, blinking to find a few of the bars of his prison had melted away, leaving a space big enough for him to squeeze through. He stepped over them and joined Arthur on the other side of his cell.

"…Thank you."

Arthur smirked at him. "It's quite all right. You would do the same for me."

Alfred nodded, dumbly, and stood around waiting for whatever Arthur planned to do next. He wasn't quite sure if this was supposed to be a rescue mission (fake or otherwise), or whether Arthur was collecting him to be executed.

"Um, well…" Arthur said slowly, once again looking bewildered by Alfred's lack of reaction. "I assume that since you didn't break out of here yourself that they must have taken your pocket watch?"

Alfred nodded. "I don't know where it is."

Now that he was out of the prison cell and his surroundings were visible in the blue light of Arthur's magic flame, Alfred realised they were at the heart of some kind of junction in a series of underground passageways. Bert and Pete had come down the middle fork earlier to give him his last meal and taunt him; Arthur had arrived from the left.

"I think the kidnappers are down that passageway," said Alfred, pointing to the middle path in the junction. "They must have the pocket watch."

Arthur nodded, looking at the dark passage appraisingly.

"I know that the pocket watch is important but…I just want to get you out of here. The enemy knows these tunnels better than we do, I don't want to risk anything clever and land both of us in even worse trouble. What do you say?"

Alfred looked at Arthur, and to his disgust, he forced himself to think about overpowering the queen. Could he knock him out against the cave wall and make a run for it? Could he use him as a hostage to get the pocket watch back and escape?

"Alfred?"

Arthur was looking at him with worried eyes that sparkled beautifully in the magical light hovering beside their heads. And even though Alfred knew he had to be clever and think only of himself, he couldn't help but play fair.

"My kidnappers said you were behind all this. You and your family."

Arthur's eyes widened now, impossibly large. He looked genuinely shocked, and Alfred's heart clenched with hope.

"Is it true?" he pressed, when the queen remained stunned and speechless.

"_No!_" Arthur exclaimed immediately. He flinched as the sound of his shout rang through the tunnels. They both froze, not even breathing as they waited to hear sounds of the kidnappers coming to check the noise.

Nothing happened for several long moments, and soon Alfred's eyes met Arthur's again.

"Alfred…I don't know what they said," Arthur urged, a pleading tone rippling through his voice. "I don't know how to make you believe I'm on your side. I'm sorry this has happened and that they've filled you with doubt and fear. I just…promise. I promise I just want to get you out of here. _Please. _Trust me."

Alfred knew that he shouldn't. If he trusted Arthur now, then anything that happened to him would be all his fault. He couldn't blame Arthur or the Kirklands for anything that befell him from now on. He had to decide whether to stay safe, or to trust his queen.

He sighed, knowing he didn't really have a choice in the matter. His mind had been made up for him the first time he ever saw his future queen.

"Arthur…I've always believed in you, even if I didn't really show it. I guess I shouldn't stop now."

Alfred couldn't tell for sure, thanks to the blue light, but it looked like Arthur was blushing. The queen averted his eyes quickly and nodded.

"Thank you. We should get out of here then. Follow me."

The blue light drifted away from Arthur's shoulder and flew off down the left hand tunnel, the way Arthur had come. The two royals followed it, walking quickly but not daring to run lest their footsteps echo in the tunnel and draw unwanted attention.

They had been walking for some time when Arthur finally spoke up.

"When we found you were missing, Yao was all in a panic – thought I'd be next, no doubt." There was a smile to the queen's voice, though Alfred couldn't see it from where he was following behind in single file. "He sent out the Royal Guard on a search party, but I snuck out as soon as I could to come and find you."

"How _did_ you find me?" Alfred asked, doubt clouding his voice. Now that he thought about it, wasn't it a bit suspicious that Arthur found him so quickly and just before the kidnappers could do anything drastic? It was all a bit convenient.

"Magic, of course," Arthur scoffed, as if it were obvious. "I don't have that giant clock in my room solely for decoration. My powers are greater than any of the magicians in the Royal Guard. Besides, I know you better and we're bonded in many ways, so my magic can always find you faster."

Alfred found himself blushing, though he didn't know why. "Well…thank you."

Arthur was silent for a moment, but Alfred could tell that he was thinking. Sure enough, he spoke up again a minute later, his voice strong and firm and demanding confidence.

"Thank you for trusting me, your majesty. I know that your kidnappers must have put doubt in you, so you had no reason to believe me. And I know we're not that close, so…it means the _world_ to me that you trusted me, despite all that. I'll do anything to repay your confidence in me. I promise I won't let you down."

Alfred blushed again, his skin practically on fire with a tingling flush. He didn't know what to say in reply, so before he could stop himself he reached out to clasp Arthur's hand, squeezing it firmly.

He felt Arthur jump, startled at the sudden touch. The first touch between them since they'd had to sleep together almost a year ago. Suddenly Alfred was flooded with panic, wondering if the touch reminded Arthur of how awkward it had been that night, and how much he resented Alfred. But then Arthur was squeezing his hand in return.

"Did you mean it, that you've always believed in me?" the queen asked, his voice small and tentative.

"Of course," said Alfred. The answer came naturally, because he'd never been able to lie to Arthur. "I know we don't know each other very well but…I've always _wanted_ to know you. Even when I was a kid." Now he was saying too much! Alfred was suddenly acutely aware of their skin touching as they kept holding hands, and he worried if he was maybe holding on too long, or if Arthur would be disgusted when his hands got sweaty from Alfred's nerves. "I-I just…thought you were cool. And I think you make a great queen. Maybe…maybe we can start getting to know each other better, when we get home."

Arthur squeezed his hand again, but it must have been an unbidden reflex because suddenly Arthur was stammering, "Y-yes. I-I'd like that."

Alfred's heart was practically flying down the tunnel, as light and happy as the little magical blue light that floated down the passageway ahead of them to guide the way.

He knew he should be suspicious – knew that this could all be a ruse and Arthur meant nothing that he said. But Alfred had promised to trust him. And if he told Arthur that he trusted him, he wanted it to be the honest truth, not a lie to protect himself. Trust was important, and he wouldn't lie about it.

Alfred lost track of how long they'd been walking. There were twists and turns in the passageway, and at one point they came upon another junction. But Arthur's magic light seemed to know the way, and they followed it in silence. Eventually, Alfred realised that the dark ahead of them was not the pitch black of underground but the dark blue of night time. There was an opening ahead!

Arthur noticed it, too, and they sped up until soon they were stepping out of a cave mouth and into the night.

Alfred gulped down the fresh air, relishing the feel of it in his lungs after the dank, stale air in the cave. He felt the grass under his bare feet, so much softer than the hard rocky ground in the tunnels. A night breeze caressed his skin, and he knew he'd never appreciated the world around him as much as he did now. How could he take it for granted: the trees, the starry sky, the fresh air, the sound of owls…It was all so beautiful.

Arthur turned to him, finally letting go of his hand. "We should keep going for a while, get as far away as possible so they lose track of us," Arthur suggested. "But we'll have to stop for a rest eventually. Quite frankly, I'm exhausted – I haven't stopped since I set out yesterday morning."

Alfred nodded, and they were back on their journey again without another word. Arthur's magical blue light floated ahead of them once more, drifting above the ground so Alfred could see his path and avoid the twigs and rocks with his bare feet. Alfred was so busy concentrating on his steps that he said nothing, and Arthur kept quiet, too. And yet, the peace between them was easy and content. It felt so right, like everything Alfred had ever wanted – just for them to be comfortable around each other.

Well, that wasn't true. If he had everything he wanted, then Arthur would still be holding his hand, saying how much he'd missed him and that he loved him. But still, these baby steps were something he'd never imagined possible, and he was happy just to be on good terms with the queen for the first time since they'd been crowned.

"Why don't we stop now," Arthur suggested as they reached a little dell, enclosed by tall trees and bushes to hide it from view. "You must be hungry, and I doubt you're feeling too energetic after being locked up in a cave all day."

Alfred nodded and the two of them sat down against a thick tree trunk, resting up against the twisted roots. The giant canopy of leaves swayed and rustled gently above them, and Alfred let himself relax, the fear of being caught left far behind in the tunnels.

"Here," said Arthur, retrieving some bread and cheese from the bag he was wearing under his travelling cloak. "I've got some chocolate for afterwards, but eat that first." He grinned at Alfred, and the king wondered how long Arthur had been so thoughtful and generous without him even noticing.

"I'm sorry you have to be the queen," he blurted out.

Arthur blinked at him, bread and cheese still held out in his hands. "What? I-I thought…you said I was an all right queen?"

"Definitely! I mean, you are! Totally!" Alfred backpedalled. "It's just…I know you didn't _want _to be queen. I'm sorry you were forced into it. I should have done something to help you, I just…I didn't even think, you know? It's tradition and – "

"Alfred," Arthur interrupted, sternly, but kindly. Alfred shut up, and took the bread and cheese Arthur thrust into his hands. "What makes you think I didn't want to be the Queen of Spades?"

Alfred stared. "You ran away when you were younger!" he said. "Everyone knows that. You didn't want all the responsibilities of being noble, and you didn't want to be queen because then it would be even worse. I mean, I don't think it's _bad _that you were all rebellious – I thought you were really awesome. It's just that…now I feel horrible for ruining your life."

To Alfred's surprise, Arthur began to laugh, a warm chuckle that sounded fond and friendly, not mocking Alfred at all.

"That was when I was a _teenager_!" Arthur explained, grinning kindly. He almost looked sorry that Alfred had been so worried. "Come on, everyone wants to rebel against their duties when they're young. Didn't you hate the idea of being king when you were sixteen?"

Alfred couldn't deny it, so he nodded.

Arthur smiled softly and reached back into his bag, handing Alfred a flask of water and ushering him to drink up. Alfred did so, and Arthur continued talking while he drank.

"Alfred, I'm _honoured_ to be the Queen of Spades, just as you're proud to be king. When I was younger, it was too daunting an idea, but now I'm glad I have a chance to dedicate myself to the kingdom. I know a lot of the other nobles better than you do, and I can tell you, I'm glad _I'm_ queen and not them! They're all far too selfish and arrogant …All this time…you thought I didn't want to be here?"

Alfred looked up to find Arthur watching him, a lost look shining in his eyes in the light of the magic blue flame. Alfred swallowed the bread in his mouth, the lump going down hard and thick as his throat clogged with nerves.

"I thought you were a good queen, I just…thought you were unhappy and…didn't like me."

Arthur actually leant back in shock. "Didn't _like_ you?" he asked, in surprise, looking genuinely confused as to how Alfred could believe that. "Even after I kissed you at your birthday ball? Why would I do that if I didn't like you?!"

It was Alfred's turn to be stunned. "Woah, woah, wait! _What? _We never kissed at a birthday ball!" He racked his brains, but he knew it was unnecessary – he'd liked Arthur his whole life, he'd definitely remember if they kissed.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Yes, we did!" he retorted, looking more confused than hurt when Alfred didn't remember. "When you were sixteen! The masquerade party at the palace."

Alfred opened his mouth to reply that Arthur was _definitely_ mistaken, when a vivid memory flashed into his mind and suddenly made a great deal of sense. He sat there staring at Arthur, mouth hanging open and finger raised as if he'd been frozen in the middle of an argument.

The night of his sixteenth birthday, his parents had thrown a masquerade ball at the palace. Many prospective queens had been invited, and Alfred found himself being hounded all night long by girls, boys, men and women, all of whom wanted to be in his good graces. Of course, it was up to the magical Spades clock who would be chosen as queen, but it didn't stop people from hoping that if they got Alfred's attention it might help the magical clock choose them instead.

Alfred had eventually found himself in the arms of a young man, who wore a fine white suit and purple cloak, and a snow white mask to disguise his face. The pair of eyes gazing down at him had been so beautiful and green that they could be mistaken for emerald decorations on the mask itself, but instead they were real, and mesmerising. Of course they had reminded him of Arthur's eyes, but the thought of that handsome English noble paying attention to him seemed so impossible that Alfred had never entertained the idea that it could be Arthur's arms around him right now. Besides, many of the Kirklands had green eyes, too – it could be anyone.

They didn't speak as they danced, and somehow the older man had managed to steer Alfred out of the ballroom and into the shadows of some marble columns in the hallway outside. "You look like you needed a minute to yourself, your highness. Everyone's so busy trying to curry favour they've forgotten it's your birthday," the young man had said, with a warm smile. Alfred had thanked him, and before he knew it, he was being kissed, for the very first time. A pair of firm lips were pressed gently against his, and by the time Alfred realised what was happening, the young man was pulling back, with a warm smile.

"I'm sorry: I just wanted one, in case I don't get to be queen. Happy birthday, Alfred."

And with that, the young noble had disappeared. Alfred wondered why he wasn't furious that the boy had kissed him without his permission, but somehow he was okay with it. The boy had been kind and thoughtful, helping him escape the ballroom to have a minute alone, so Alfred didn't think he was a bad person. And the kiss was gentle and…rather wonderful, even though Alfred hadn't had time to savour it. The boy had obviously kissed him because he_ wanted_ to, not because he was trying to be flirtatious and win Alfred's favour.

Alfred had thought about it often, his first kiss from a mystery man at the masquerade ball. His young heart still belonged to Arthur, of course, but it had been special, and whoever that boy was, Alfred had always thought he'd liked to know him.

And now, apparently, it turned out that he had all along…

"Oh."

"'_Oh?_' You mean you _really_ didn't know it was me?" Arthur asked, dumbstruck. Suddenly he laughed, the sound a little manic as he ran a hand through his wild hair. "All this time I thought you hadn't mentioned it because...you didn't like me that way. I thought you were ignoring it to let me know how you felt without hurting my feelings."

"No way!" Alfred interrupted, not liking the way Arthur was hanging his head. "I've always liked you that way!"

Alfred barely even registered what he'd said until he noticed the way Arthur stared at him. And when he realised he had just confessed his lifelong feelings for the other man, it didn't even bother him. He was far more concerned with the news that apparently they had both liked each other this whole time and hadn't even noticed. They were married for goodness' sake! How had they been so oblivious?!

"I thought…you hated me because…you know…the wedding night…" Alfred wished he didn't have to say it, but now that they were being honest he knew he had to explain why he'd been so distant from Arthur, so Arthur knew the truth and didn't think their poor relationship was all his fault.

Arthur scoffed, though Alfred could tell he was definitely blushing this time. "Come on, I'm not the only person in history who's been royally screwed by their boss. It's just very literal in my case."

There was a long pause. Finally, Alfred's face morphed from a blank stare to complete disbelief.

"Are you _serious_?!" Alfred shouted. "How can you joke about this?!"

Arthur laughed, raising his hands to placate the fretting king.

"Alfred, calm down! I didn't mean to be disrespectful, it's just that…well, if you can't laugh about it then it's too embarrassing to even think about."

"You're telling _me_!" Alfred retorted. "I thought you must hate me! You didn't have any say in it!"

"Alfred, if I hadn't wanted to sleep with you, don't you think I'd have known how to open my mouth and tell you? I mean, maybe we could do something to change the law about the king and queen having to be married but…I…didn't mind." Arthur looked down at the ground, rubbed at his arm timidly and blushing at the admission that he actually liked being married and intimate with Alfred. It was uncharacteristic of the bold, confident Englishman, and only proved to Alfred that Arthur meant every word he was saying.

"I thought you knew how I felt about you because of the kiss on your sixteenth birthday," Arthur continued. "But then you obviously hated…what we did on the wedding night – you could barely look at me, and you never brought up the kiss or the wedding night ever again so I thought…you didn't return my feelings."

Alfred watched as Arthur drew further into himself as he talked, nerves getting the better of him as he spoke of their awkward beginnings as a royal couple. All this time, Alfred had thought Arthur was the one being distant from their relationship, but to Arthur it had seemed like Alfred was the one being cold.

They were almost more of a mess than he'd even imagined!

But…at least there was hope now.

"Arthur…"

Arthur managed to look up, and Alfred had to gulp down some butterflies that suddenly fluttered up from his stomach into his lungs.

"When we get to the palace…let's start over. I think we'll make a really great team and…I really want to get to know you and make you happy."

Arthur blinked several times, the silent seconds dragging on between them. Finally, a smile grew to life on the queen's face, and he nodded. Alfred couldn't help but return the heartfelt smile, and then the two of them looked away – happy but still a bit embarrassed by the awkward conversation.

"Well, if you don't mind, would it be all right if I took a quick nap?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence. "This place looks hidden enough, and I can set up a magic barrier so that anyone who comes in this direction will turn around and walk away before they see us. I'm just exhausted."

"It's fine!" Alfred chimed in, before Arthur had time to feel guilty about being tired. The English noble had been up for almost forty-eight hours searching for _him_, after all – he couldn't deny the man a quick break now. "I can keep watch if you need me to?"

"No, no, my magic will protect us. Grab a kip if you need one."

Alfred was still trying to figure out what a 'kip' was by the time he realised Arthur was already fast asleep. He watched the other man absent-mindedly, following the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply in a contented sleep. It was slightly mesmerising to watch him, and even more so knowing that Arthur could be so at peace in Alfred's presence.

Alfred had never imagined anything like this moment could be possible. Even though they weren't even talking he felt blissfully happy, as if no moment in his future could ever make him feel more complete than this. Arthur could be comfortable around him, and that meant the entire world to Alfred.

He had always dreamed of a day when he could just go up and see Arthur whenever he wanted, without making excuses – whether he wanted to barge into his office and have lunch with him or drag him out for a walk in the garden after dinner. He'd never been able to do it before because both men had spent the past year tiptoeing around each other, mistakenly believing the other one hated them.

But now a future where those things were realities suddenly seemed very possible.

Alfred was so lost in his daydreams that he didn't notice the man creeping up behind him until a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He tried to scream, but another hand quickly slapped over his mouth, and the only sound that Alfred managed to make was muffled and pathetic.

"Shh! I'm not going to hurt you, Alfred. I just want to talk. No need to wake up the queen with your screaming."

The voice was completely new to Alfred, but at least it didn't have the accent belonging to his kidnappers. Maybe this person wasn't involved with them? He just…happened to be taking a stroll through the forest at night, very close to the location of the king's enemies?

Whatever the case, the stranger didn't seem to care that he was addressing the leader of the whole country by his first name, so it couldn't be an average citizen.

The hands never loosened from Alfred's body, but the man behind him shifted around until he was within view.

Alfred's eyes shot open painfully wide.

The man before him had white skin and silver hair, and eyes so red they pierced through the blue of the night. He wore strange red and black clothes, unlike any from the other three kingdoms and certainly not from Spades. But that was unsurprising as Alfred already know who it was. He had seen paintings before, and read accounts of meetings such as this throughout the long history of Spades.

The man before him was none other than Gilbert, one of the two legendary Jokers.

"I see my reputation precedes me!" the strange man announced proudly at Alfred's stunned expression, a smug smirk lifting his face lopsidedly. "You know who I am, so you know I'm not going to hurt you. We Jokers don't harm the rulers of the four kingdoms; we only get involved when you need help."

He let go of Alfred, knowing full well that the young king wouldn't scream now that he knew who he was dealing with. Even if Alfred had wanted to raise the alarm, the Jokers were the most powerful beings in the world, and neither Alfred nor Arthur would be able to stop Gilbert if he wanted to harm them.

"Well, I don't need help," Alfred stated once Gilbert had released him. "You're about a day late – Arthur already saved me."

Gilbert cackled, and even Alfred, with his infamous laugh, thought the sound was obnoxious.

"Yeah. You're welcome."

Alfred cocked an eyebrow at the strange comment. "What?"

"I said 'you're welcome.' I _know _you don't need help anymore, that's because I've already done my job."

Alfred tilted his head in confusion as he tried to work out what was going through the Joker's head. These strange spirits were documented often enough that they were known to be real, but sightings weren't exactly common; the last time anyone had seen the Jokers in Spades was well over a hundred years ago. It wasn't as if they were human, and they certainly didn't play by the same laws of nature as everyone else did, so it was hard to know how to react when Gilbert made such strange claims. Perhaps he really had done something to help Alfred, even if the king couldn't see it.

"I can see you're confused," the Joker said, crouching on his haunches before Alfred with a wicked grin on his face. He obviously delighted in baffling the mortals. "Peter didn't want me to come here and tell you – he was too embarrassed. It was all his idea, you know."

"No? What was his idea?" Alfred asked, trying to keep up with the rambling conversation. He knew the name Peter belonged to the other Joker, but that was about all he understood of what Gilbert was saying.

"The kidnapping, duh!" Gilbert said with a roll of his eyes, as if it were obvious.

Alfred tensed, glancing quickly to Arthur, protectively.

"_You_ were behind all this?" he demanded, trying to sound braver then he felt. He knew he was no match for a Joker, after all.

"No, I told you: Peter was."

"Why would he do that and then let me get away? Are you going to take me back?"

Gilbert cackled again, and the sound made a shiver run down Alfred's spine.

"Psht no! If we wanted you to stay kidnapped, you'd still be in that cave. You were supposed to get rescued, that's the whole point."

"Look," sighed Alfred, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Now that he knew he really was in no danger of being kidnapped again, he was quickly growing tired of Gilbert's unhelpful answers. "If you're going to tell me what you're doing here then tell me. Otherwise thank you for whatever you've done, but please leave, I don't want to sit here and listen to you if you're deliberately going to be annoying."

"I'm not annoying, I'm just too awesome for you to understand what I'm talking about," Gilbert leered, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Are you going to tell me or not?!" Alfred repeated, staring down the Joker. For an immortal, all-powerful spirit, these guys were damn annoying. He quickly felt himself losing all respect and awe he'd had for these legendary creatures.

"Of course I'm going to tell you! Because firstly – " Gilbert held up one finger, "you'd never know how much you owe me if I didn't explain it, and secondly – " he held up a second finger, "Peter doesn't want me to."

Alfred leant back and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly. He wasn't going to pander to Gilbert anymore, and quite frankly, this conversation was exhausting.

"Okay, okay. So, you and Arthur weren't getting along at all, right? And that's just not okay," Gilbert began, with many wild hand gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. "So Peter was all 'We have to get them together the way they're supposed to be or this is going to screw up everything!' And I was like 'Fake a kidnapping. Works every time.'"

Alfred's eyes were wide with disbelief, and his brain seemed to slow down to a crawl as he tried to take in all this new information. He held up his hands as Gilbert opened his mouth to continue.

"Hold on a second," the king said weakly. "What do you mean Arthur and I weren't getting along 'the way we're supposed to.' Do you know something about our futures?"

Gilbert seemed to revel in the amazed gaze Alfred had trained on him, as he sat up straight and raised his head proudly. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, mere mortal. All you need to know is that I've managed to fix everything for you, even though you didn't know it was broken. That is just how awesome I am."

Alfred scowled, but took a deep breath and persevered, still determined to get more answers.

"I still don't get why you organised the kidnapping, though, if I was supposed to escape all along. Wasn't there another way for you to help Arthur and me become…friends?"

"No. You guys are really fucking oblivious – it called for drastic measures," Gilbert explained. "So Peter and I had to come all the way to Spades and pretend to kidnap you just to get you two to pull your act together and work as a team."

Alfred's head was reeling from all these revelations, so much so that he felt dizzy. He clapped a hand to his temple and glared at Gilbert through his suddenly growing headache.

"_You_ kidnapped me?"

"Of course!" Gilbert beamed, ever so pleased with himself.

"Why?!" Alfred stammered, still confused. "You said so yourself – you don't mean me any harm and Jokers don't kill mortals."

"Yeah, but like I said: 'drastic measures.' I drugged you, stole your pocket watch, and zapped us out of the castle. Then Peter and I disguised ourselves as a pair of crooks from London Town (and we're not even going to charge you for getting to watch our amazing acting talents, by the way) and pretended to be working for the Kirklands so you'd think Arthur was behind the kidnapping."

"But…why?" Alfred repeated, still not understanding what this had to do with his relationship with the queen. "Why would you pretend to be working for the Kirklands?"

"Because we needed you to doubt Arthur."

"…Why?"

"Oh my God, you humans can never think outside the box!" Gilbert exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "I needed you to doubt Arthur and then trust him again. How else were you ever going to get this relationship rolling? It would help you realise how important he is to you, and it would let him know you don't hate him. You guys have been pretty damn obtuse so far, and a fake kidnapping was really the only way to get your heads out of your asses. You two need to trust each other or…well, I can't give it away, but let's just say your faith in each other is pretty damn important to Spades."

"But _why_ is it so important that Arthur and I get along?" Alfred insisted, pleadingly. He knelt in front of where Gilbert was crouching, and grabbed his arm. "Are Arthur and I supposed to be in love and happy and be a great king and queen together? I've always felt like that, I just thought we'd started all wrong and it was doomed. Are we really meant to be a couple and make Spades great together? Are we going to do something important in the future?"

Gilbert smiled, the expression far warmer than anything he'd shown Alfred so far. It was almost off-putting compared to the boisterous bravado from before. Alfred suddenly liked the Joker a lot more.

"Look, I really can't say," said Gilbert gently. "We're not allowed to give you guys any details about what we do." He glanced around at the bushes and trees around them, and then leant forwards towards Alfred, a hand raised to hide his whisper. "Let's just say things are going to get much better for everyone from now on."

Alfred beamed in delight, and gripped Gilbert's arm tighter in thanks.

The Joker smiled again and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Just make sure you treat Arthur right, okay?"

"Of course!" Alfred replied immediately, scrambling to his feet to stand before Gilbert. "I…love him."

"I know you do," smirked Gilbert. "It's pretty damn obvious. But he can be a giant ass-hole sometimes, so even when it's hard, try to stay together, okay? It's the best thing for everyone."

Alfred nodded eagerly, his heart so painfully, blissfully full that he couldn't manage to talk.

"Well," said Gilbert, clapping his hands. "I should be off. I've said my piece, and now Peter's gonna be adequately embarrassed that you know he was worried about you, so my work here is done."

"Why would he be embarrassed about helping us?" inquired Alfred. "He's a Joker, that's what he's supposed to do."

"I can't say I get it, either," Gilbert said, scratching his head and mussing his silvery hair. "He just really likes you two. I think it's because he looks like a perfect mixture between the two of you – like he could be your love child if that were possible." Alfred blushed brightly under the moonlight and averted his eyes quickly as if that would stop Gilbert from seeing it. "He thinks of you as his ideal parents or something. He's still a kid really, even if he is a thousand years old, so I can see how he might like to fantasise about what it would be like if the three of you were a family. It's sweet. He was really determined to help you guys, and he was so happy to meet you, even if he had to do it while pretending to be a bad guy."

Alfred was so touched, and a warm feeling of comfort and safety washed over him, knowing he had a little guardian angel watching over him and wishing him well.

"Tell him I said thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I'm sure Arthur does, too. And tell him he can visit us whenever he wants!"

Gilbert smiled, but it was solemn and sad.

"No can do, I'm afraid. But that's okay. Peter's happy just knowing everything's okay now. And we'll still keep an eye on you guys in case you get into any more trouble."

Alfred nodded, making a silent promise to stay out of trouble and not waste the incredible gift the Jokers had given him: a second chance with Arthur.

"Welp, I really have to be off now," Gilbert said airily, but with an air of finality. He stuck out his hand, and Alfred shook it firmly. "It was nice to meet you, Alfred."

"You, too, Gilbert. Thank you for everything."

Alfred gripped the Joker's hand tightly, trying to infuse their handshake with all the gratitude he could feel overflowing inside him.

Suddenly, the hand in his grip was gone, and Alfred was no longer looking into Gilbert's glowing red eyes but at empty air. The Joker had disappeared.

For a while, Alfred remained standing, staring into the space where Gilbert had been. He had a lot to think about it, and all of it was crowding to the front of his mind at once, begging for attention.

But then Arthur shifted on the ground nearby, and Alfred's attention snapped back to his queen, everything else pushed to one side. He knelt down on the damp grass beside his queen and watched Arthur frown in his sleep, mouth opening as if he was trying to call out.

Maybe it was Alfred's confrontation with a Joker, or the leftover adrenaline of escaping the tunnel (even though he now knew he'd had nothing to fear), but somehow he found himself feeling daring. Before he could hesitate, he reached out boldly and stroked a hand through Arthur's hair. It was wild and matted from the queen's two days on the road, though it always looked messy at the best of times. Alfred trailed his fingers rhythmically through the soft hair – the golden colour washed out to pale blue-ish silver in the moonlight – and stroked gently at Arthur's head to reassure him in his sleep.

Soon Arthur's eyebrows softened, and a gentle smile even spread across his sleeping lips.

Alfred's heart swelled at the thought that _he_ had put that smile on Arthur's face. And from now on, he planned to keep it there. Gilbert's reassuring words ran like a promise in the back of his mind, and Alfred knew that everything between him and Arthur would be fine. But it was his faith in Arthur that put a smile on his face and filled him with confidence as he settled down to sleep by his queen's side. Knowing that Arthur trusted him, and maybe even loved him back – that was worth more to Alfred than the words of the Jokers.

* * *

**A/N:**

This is a gift for Kyle for wining a giveaway I did on my blog. The fic is approximately 17,000 years late but Kyle has been so patient as I kept getting distracted from this oneshot again and again and again. Thank you and congratulations, Kyle! I know you're like me and you'll always love USUK , so even if updates are late or people write USUK fics fifty years from now, we'll still be here waiting to read them!

Kyle's prompt for this fic was a cardverse AU in which Alfred is kidnapped and Arthur goes to save him. I like exploring their relationship more than writing about dramatic action or adventures, so I decided to focus on the effect the kidnap would have on their relationship, rather than make it some sort of quest story.

Cardverse is fun because there are so many possibilities you can use in the USUK dynamic. I tried to find something that hadn't been done very often before: they are king and queen already, but they don't get along very well because they think the other one hates them. They're not enemies or rivals or anything – they work together and _do_ try to be a good team – but they just can't make their relationship work. Good ol' miscommunication – it's almost a must when it comes to USUK fanfics.

Even though Arthur and Alfred are terrible at communicating (both in canon and many, many fanworks) you can always tell they care about each other – even if _they_ can't see it. So I wanted to write a fic to sort of celebrate their miscommunication. It's a classic USUK trope, and to me it always proves how much they care about each other – because they can push through it and fall in love despite their own stupidity.


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